


soon (the desert sands remix)

by ailurea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief suicidal thoughts, Canon Compliant, Except S8 What's S8, Getting Together, M/M, slow burn speed run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea
Summary: A definition:soon (adverb)In, or after a short timeA nebulous measure of timeOr: in which Keith relearns what it means to love.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 340
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	soon (the desert sands remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250147) by [sepiacigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiacigarettes/pseuds/sepiacigarettes). 



> this is a pinch hit remix for [abbey](https://ao3.org/users/sepiacigarettes) for the 2020 sheith remix event!
> 
> abbey has so many amazing fics (please go read them all!). while trying to figure out which sheith fic to remix, i accidentally fell in love with the quiet and powerful tone of _soon_ (originally kakasaku) and i loved the idea of remixing it into sheith—so here we are! 
> 
> sheith and kakasaku have very different backstories and dynamics, but it was a lot of fun translating the themes and arcs over. some definitions and phrases have also been borrowed from the original. i hope i've done it justice, abbey, and i hope you enjoy. thank you for sharing your works with us! ♥

A definition:

endure (verb)

  1. To carry on through, despite hardships; undergo or suffer
  2. To continue in existence; last



* * *

Keith is thirteen when his world shatters.

His memories of it are clouded, but he’s never tried to make any of it clearer. He remembers enough: the fire chief at the door, with his dad’s helmet and an awful sad expression; the way Keith had screamed and cried and hid in his dad’s bedroom and refused to come out until his dad came home; the way he’d come out the next morning to find the chief sleeping, cramped on their small couch.

And the chief’s voice, and those seven horrible words that make his heart ache and ache and ache whenever he recalls them:

_I’m sorry, Keith. He’s not coming home._

* * *

It only gets worse.

He remembers the very first home, how they’d said _welcome to your new family_ and he had hope that maybe, somehow, things could be okay again. That, with time, his heart could feel less hollow.

He loses that hope by the third home.

They all want to end up with some perfect kid, not a lost barely-teen with more grief than he knows what to do with. They want someone who sits down for the table at dinner and does his chores and gets good grades and is in bed by nine.

At least they don’t have to worry about that last one. Most of the time, if Keith’s not in school, he’s in bed.

Everything feels harder, but mealtimes are the worst. It’s a family that belongs together, plus Keith, who belongs somewhere else. The division is always clear, and he can’t help but long for the past, the way he and his dad would laugh and share stories over dinner before going outside together to watch the stars.

 _We don’t know how to help you_ , is how they always explain it when he’s shuffled off to the next home.

Keith doesn’t want to be helped.

He wants to be loved.

* * *

He doesn’t remember much about most of the other families, only that he never felt he was really welcomed, despite the fact that they were the ones who invited him in.

 _You’ll find your place soon,_ the social workers tell him.

He’s given up hope on there being a place for him anymore, and he’s getting sick of hearing the word _soon_.

* * *

By fifteen, Keith’s lived with fourteen families and enrolled in three high schools.

He’s never been a bad student, but it’s hard to keep track of what he needs to have and know and do, and the teachers all act like he’s willfully ditching class and falling behind on homework, even after he tries to explain that he’s moving between entirely new families every few weeks.

Once, he stays with a family for four months, long enough to get his bearings and start getting his grades up again. He’s marked down for cheating, even though there’s no proof, because there’s no proof to find.

He isn’t allowed to have his phone at school anymore, but that part of it doesn’t matter. It’s not like he has anyone to talk to, anyways.

By fifteen, Keith learns that no one else cares about him, or where his life will lead.

He learns to stop caring, too.

It’s the most freeing decision he’s ever made.

* * *

A definition:

stimulate (verb)

  1. To encourage into action; excite
  2. To stir feelings in



* * *

Keith is sixteen.

He hasn’t found a permanent home—not unusual for teenagers, the social workers tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel any better—and his grades suffer for it.

He does like learning, so he studies and does homework as best he can. But he only works on projects that interest him, because he’s learned the hard way that even if he’s just written a five-page book report at his old school, the new school needs it to be about the book _they’re_ covering.

So he does the bare minimum on all the major projects, but he does most of the other homework and sets the curve on almost all the tests, and since they’ve run out of ways to accuse him of cheating, the teachers begrudgingly let him pass.

Doesn’t mean they like him.

They don’t like his attitude, the way he argues for himself, the way he isn’t doing exactly what they want but is still passing the class by their own rules. They take any excuse to send him to detention, even if it’s just getting to class right as the bell rings—though he notices they don’t say anything when James fucking Griffin does the same.

He’s used to being invisible unless he’s in trouble, so he doesn’t even pay attention anymore when recruiters come by looking for kids for their summer programs. None of the teachers recommend him, and none of the recruiters even give him a second look.

None, until Takashi Shirogane.

* * *

Keith knows the name, and even if he didn’t, the teacher’s words would have caught his attention.

_Youngest pilot ever to lead a mission into space._

Keith’s dad was always obsessed with the stars and space travel. According to him, Keith’s mom was a star child, too. Technology was advancing every day, and his dad hoped that Keith would get the chance to go up there in his lifetime.

He doesn’t know if it’s because of his memories of his dad, or if because starlight really does run in his veins, but he knows when he looks up at the night sky, he feels a longing.

That’s what he was thinking about last year, when he told the high school guidance counselor that his top choice school was the Galaxy Garrison’s Space Academy.

She smiled pityingly. “Well, it’s always good to have a reach school.”

* * *

Keith’s classmates go one by one through the sims. He waits off to the side for them to finish so they can be dismissed.

And then Takashi Shirogane makes Keith let down his guard.

“Looks like you’re the only one who’s left,” he says with an easy smile. “Think you’ve got what it takes?”

It doesn’t matter if he does. They won’t take him anyway.

But something about Shirogane’s open, easy smile stirs something in him, and Keith finds himself climbing into the machine and _succeeding_. His classmates’ open surprise grates on him like always—especially James, who only has it out for Keith because he gets the highest test scores even though James is technically top of the class.

Then he hears the words _discipline case_ , and the teacher recommending James to Shirogane even though Keith is doing five times better than any of the rest of them, and fine.

That’s just fucking fine.

He already knows that he shouldn’t get his hopes up anymore because he’s always, always going to be disappointed. He hates Shirogane for making him second-guess that.

Maybe that’s why he ends up stealing his car.

* * *

Keith’s impulsive, but that’s about the extent of his actual troublemaker habits, so after stealing the car he doesn’t really know what to do with it except drive it to juvie himself. It’s where he’ll end up, anyway.

He gives them his foster parents’ contact information and then the number of the school to contact Shirogane so he can press charges or whatever and sits down to wait. He’ll get a lecture or two or three, and then he’s sure he’ll be out of this house by next week—assuming he gets out of juvie, that is.

It’ll sting to see Shirogane’s disappointed face after having him be so welcoming earlier, but whatever.

That was never going to last, anyway.

* * *

Shirogane hands Keith a card and the promise of a second chance.

He tells him he has potential. He says he wants to help.

Keith doesn’t want to believe him.

* * *

Keith is sixteen when he learns how it feels to have someone supporting him for no reason other than the fact that he wants to.

Shirogane sponsors his application for the summer program. Apparently, that means he can skip the transcript review that he would’ve definitely failed and jump straight into the onsite assessments, which includes the same sim that he’d flown at his school.

When he stumbles out after crashing on level 12, it’s to the stunned faces of the officers and Shirogane doing a little happy dance as someone facepalms next to him.

He almost can’t believe it when the results are announced.

It’s the best anyone’s done on this exam—ever. Six points below him is Takashi Shirogane.

Shirogane’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. “You’re going to be amazing,” he says softly.

Keith is, maybe, starting to believe him.

* * *

After a summer spent on the Garrison campus with Shiro supporting him every step of the way, Keith starts to feel like what he wants is possible after all.

Despite how well he performed all summer, he still needs a certain GPA to be considered for the Garrison after graduation. So he gets to work.

He refuses another placement, stays in the group home, and doubles down on studying. He does every project, and all the extra credit. He’s actually top of the class this year, not that it matters when he already has three bad years on his record.

James doesn’t take it well, and Keith doesn’t take his verbal attacks well.

At least detention doesn’t lower his GPA.

Still, Shiro’s unhappy when he hears about it, and there’s nothing worse than hearing Shiro’s disappointed voice, so Keith agrees to try meditating even though he hates the idea of it. He’s spent this whole time keeping busy so he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts, and now Shiro wants him to sit and stare at them head-on?

He starts with a token effort—three minutes at a time that he’s not even sure counts as meditating, with the way his thoughts won’t stop their assault on his brain.

After a couple of weeks, Shiro starts joining him on video call, and eventually Keith makes it to five, then fifteen, then thirty.

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro tells him.

The impossible becomes possible.

By the time spring comes around, they’re meditating together twice a week for an hour without fail.

Shiro’s there for his graduation.

Keith enters the Garrison in the fall.

* * *

It doesn’t get easier.

* * *

An overheard comment:

“He doesn’t even deserve to be here, if you ask me. If Shirogane hadn’t vouched for him, he wouldn’t be here at all. I don’t know how Keith tricked him in the first place, but he’ll figure out the truth soon enough.”

* * *

Sometimes Keith would rather just give up.

He’s not trying to make something of himself, or prove anything to anyone. He just wants to touch the stars, so that when he sees his dad again, he can tell him exactly what it feels like.

But if he has to fight so hard just for a chance to get there—he’s not sure that’s worth it.

Shiro refuses to hear any of it.

“I will never give up on you,” he says. “But, more importantly, you can’t give up on yourself.”

Words don’t really make things easier, but the fact that Shiro never jumps at the chance to throw him away does.

Shiro helps him with his classes, reminds him to eat, and makes him meditate before he does anything he’ll regret.

Shiro shows him it’s hard for people to be in his corner if he’s not there himself.

It’s a lonely corner and Keith hates it there, but he’s trying. To make Shiro proud, at least, he’s trying.

_Patience yields focus._

Keith repeats it like a mantra.

* * *

A conversation:

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Keith says. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“The only thing I did was convince you to believe in yourself,” Shiro says, tapping his chest. “You’ve seen the records yourself. You already know that you’re a better pilot than I was at your age. So all the things you’ve achieved here? That’s all on you.”

Like test scores, records are meaningless if they don’t amount to anything.

Keith kicks at the ground. “I get that, but I know I’ve messed up. A lot. If you weren’t around, I would’ve been kicked out a long time ago.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Keith,” Shiro says gently. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

It’s with his entire teenaged life as evidence that Keith says, “You’re the only one who thinks that.”

* * *

For being the so-called Golden Boy of the Garrison, Shiro’s not above some questionable behavior himself. It started with Keith mentioning that he liked stargazing, and Shiro winking and smuggling him onto a rooftop they definitely should not have had access to. Now it’s apparently taking Keith out into the desert and showing him how to dive off a fucking cliff on a hoverbike.

If the officers could see them now.

Shiro does it more than a few times in front of him, and Keith tries to _patiently_ work up to it, but it feels forever out of reach, like a mad risk he’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to take.

Sometimes he wonders how Shiro even thought to do it in the first place.

“What if I’m never ready?” he says one day as they watch the sun set.

“When it comes to most things in life, you’re never really going to feel ready,” Shiro says, the dying sun reflecting in his eyes. “Sometimes, you just have to know when to jump.”

* * *

Like all good things in Keith’s life, Shiro’s presence is only temporary.

The electro-stimulators are the most obvious sign, but the way Adam and Sanda always act like he’s fragile is another big clue that Keith’s never tried to put together.

 _Two years_ , Shiro said, once Keith knew how to ask.

Two years max until Keith loses the only other person who’s ever cared for him, and for one of those years he’s going to be gone, chasing after his own dream.

It’s because he loves him that Keith never even thinks to ask Shiro to stay.

He just starts preparing himself for the loss.

* * *

Keith doesn’t cry when the mission launches, and Shiro’s craft disappears out of sight.

It doesn’t really hit until he’s finished with classes for the day, and he’s halfway to Shiro’s office before realizing he won’t be there. Might not ever be there again.

The tears only stop when he sleeps.

* * *

It’s been a long time since Keith’s wanted anyone’s recognition, but he wants everything to be perfect when Shiro gets back, especially if they’ll only have so much time left.

He doesn’t want to waste time with discipline records—he wants to be wrapped up in Shiro’s arms, to see his soft smile, to hear him say, _I’m so proud of you, Keith_ , in the easy way he always does.

Keith can be a model student, even if he has to meditate every damn day to do it.

He’s the top fighter pilot in the Garrison, and he doesn’t give any professor a reason to complain. He even makes more of an effort to engage with his classmates, but no one seems really interested in getting to know him, and he’s not ready to push. 

That’s fine. He’s never had friends his age. He wouldn’t know what to do with them, anyway.

At night he studies, meditates, and counts down the days until the Kerberos mission returns.

Soon.

* * *

Keith turns eighteen alone, and celebrates by taking his hoverbike out into the desert and to the edge of the cliff that he and Shiro shared.

He still comes out by himself—not as often, but he does. He’s still training his reflexes and building his confidence to take the leap. He hasn’t done it yet, though—he wants his first time to be with Shiro.

(And, he thinks, a bit morbidly, he doesn’t want to mess it up and die before Shiro comes home.)

He dangles his legs off the edge of the cliff and looks up at the stars.

 _I hope you’re well_ , he thinks in the direction of his universe. _I hope you’re happy_.

 _Come home soon_.

* * *

All is quiet for six months.

It’s a steady routine. Keith works hard during the day, and meditates at night. James stops trying to aggravate him, now that Keith’s stopped rising to the bait. Keith thinks Iverson may actually have smiled at him once.

Then they hear news of Kerberos.

_Pilot error._

_Pilot error._

_Pilot error._

* * *

_I’m sorry, Keith._

_He’s not coming home._

* * *

It’s awful.

It’s so fucking awful.

He’d thought he’d healed from his dad’s death, but it feels like it’s happening all over again, and worse. He’s alone all alone and Shiro is gone and his dad is _gone—_

But at least everyone knew his dad died a hero.

Keith knows Shiro did too, that he could outfly anyone in this building and that he’d always put the lives of his crew before his own, and the fact that anyone would even suggest he wouldn’t is wrong—

His memories are a blur again.

He doesn’t remember the words he said, but he remembers the anger with which he’d said them, the way he’d lashed out with his voice and his fists.

 _Something is wrong_.

No one listens.

He didn’t expect them to.

They tolerated him while he was playing the perfect kid, but the moment he’s himself again, raw with pain and grief again, they turn him away, like always.

_We don’t know how to help you._

The only person who’d ever listened to him, ever cared, was Shiro.

And now he’s gone.

By morning, Keith’s gone, too.

* * *

He has his hoverbike and a backpack of things and nowhere to go except the little cabin his dad had out in the desert.

Between there and the Garrison is the cliff.

In one second, he’s ready to veer right, following his usual winding path along the cliffside.

In the next second, he clenches down on the throttle and launches himself clean off.

The fall is exhilarating, and suddenly the world is clear and bright in a way that he hasn’t experienced since Shiro left. He almost doesn’t want it to end.

What if it doesn’t?

What if he just keeps falling forever?

There’s a roaring in his mind, and Keith’s eyes fly open and he yanks up on the controls, just in time for the hoverbike to even out and propel forward, toward the cabin.

Keith breathes deeply.

In the back of his mind, the desert calls.

* * *

A definition:

familiarity (noun)

  1. Close acquaintance with or knowledge of something
  2. Relaxed friendliness or intimacy between people



* * *

It’s like a fact of the universe:

Everything has to get better before it gets worse.

* * *

Keith starts the day with an unknown energy buzzing in his veins. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but he knows it’s coming.

And it does.

Everything bursts like a flood: Shiro, aliens, Voltron.

Keith can barely wrap his mind around one thing before he needs to focus on another, and he doesn’t know what to do, what to say.

The electrostimulator bracelet isn’t on Shiro’s arm anymore. Then again, his arm isn’t really there anymore, either. The prosthesis is clearly hurting him, but he doesn’t talk about it—Keith thinks he might not even know how to talk about it—and Keith knows better than to dig into raw wounds.

 _I don’t know how to help_ , he catches himself thinking once, before remembering exactly what he needed when his hurt was too much for him to hold.

He loves Shiro, instead.

He loves him with everything he has.

* * *

Shiro starts remembering, and with the memories come nightmares.

Keith catches him standing in the observation deck instead of sleeping, and they go back to Shiro’s room together. Keith sits on his bed, holds his hand, and talks to him about nothing until he falls asleep.

Eventually, they start meditating again, the way Shiro taught him how.

Shiro starts sleeping through the night.

Keith keeps holding his hand.

* * *

A conversation:

“So, uh, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but what’s the deal with you and Shiro?”

Hunk is definitely prying, but he’s doing it after a bribe of space goo cookies, so Keith’s feeling a little more charitable.

(That, and it’s Hunk, and Keith finds himself more trusting of Hunk’s motives than anyone else’s.)

“We’re friends,” Keith says.

“That’s it?” Hunk says, then quickly adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just—you guys seem to be really, uh, close?”

“We’re best friends,” Keith says. He feels confident enough that Shiro would agree with that.

“Cool,” Hunk says. “I mean that with, like, full sincerity by the way. He really looks like he could use a friend right now. I’m glad he has you. I hope he feels better soon.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Me too.”

* * *

Shiro always tries to motivate Keith to be better, to aim higher.

The worst part is how he does it at the expense of himself.

“Keith,” Shiro says, “if I don’t make it out of here, I want you to lead Voltron.”

It’s the worst thing he’s ever heard, and it only gets worse when Shiro keeps bringing it up, telling him he needs to work on this or that if he’s going to be a leader— _the_ leader—someday.

He doesn’t want to hear it.

He’s already lost Shiro once; he’s not ready to face losing him again.

And as Shiro keeps going on about it, Keith realizes that he was wrong about the worst part of it all.

The worst part is this:

That Shiro acts like his loss is inevitable.

* * *

Keith discovers he’s half-alien.

He isn’t really bothered by that fact. He’s never fit in in the first place; this is just another piece of that puzzle.

He is bothered by the fact that he’s half-Galra, though—that this revelation means that whenever Shiro looks at him, he’ll see his nightmares come to life.

But if Shiro’s affected, he doesn’t show it.

When they leave the Blades base, Shiro wraps his arms around him, tight, and Keith returns the hug. The cuts and bruises all over his body ache, but he isn’t about to ask Shiro to pull back, not when this is exactly where Keith wants to be.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shiro whispers, and Keith holds him tighter.

* * *

Shiro holds him every night in the short time they have until the battle.

Every night, it feels like it’s the last.

* * *

Keith is prepared for the worst after the battle with Zarkon, and seeing the Black Lion drifting unresponsive. He’s terrified, but he gets himself ready for the reality of seeing Shiro battered and broken in the cockpit, if only so he won’t freeze up when the moment comes.

There’s a chance to save him. The Altean healing pods are technology way beyond what Earth has. If he’s fast enough, there’s time, there’s a chance—

He isn’t prepared for nothingness.

* * *

Everything is worse.

Everything is so much worse.

* * *

A definition:

maudlin (adjective)

  1. Foolishly sentimental



* * *

An argument:

Shiro’s back, but that seems to be the only thing right in the universe right now.

He and Shiro have disagreed, but they’ve never argued. Not like this.

The setting: Keith’s room on the Castleship, after dinner.

The participants: Keith, sitting on the bed; Shiro beside him, arms crossed.

Then, quietly: “Keith, what is going on with you?”

Keith swallows back the lump in his throat. He’s in over his head. He’s been in over his head. “I can’t do this, Shiro.”

“You can,” Shiro says, his voice firm and unyielding. “The Black Lion chose you for a reason, Keith. I understand the Marmoran training is important to you, but you need to start putting your focus where it belongs.”

“The work that the Blades are doing is important—”

“Not as important as this team,” Shiro cuts in, and Keith snaps his mouth shut so quickly his teeth clack.

His hands are sweating. Even when he’s disagreed with Shiro before, Shiro’s always been open to listening to him. He’s never been so firm, so closed-off as he is now.

He’s never made Keith too afraid to say how he thinks, how he feels for fear of how Shiro will take it.

Shiro closes his eyes and sighs, like he knows where Keith’s thoughts have gone. His shoulders relax by force. “Look, Keith, I know this is a big responsibility, but the Black Lion wouldn’t have chosen you if you couldn’t do it.”

 _Fuck the Black Lion_ , Keith thinks, uncharitably.

None of this is her fault, but if she’d reconnect with Shiro, this wouldn’t be a problem.

He wouldn’t be a problem.

“I can’t give up on the Blades,” Keith says.

“I’m not asking you to,” Shiro says. “I’m asking you to find a better balance, for the sake of the team. For the sake of the universe. We need Voltron. Can you do that?”

Keith clenches his fists so hard his nails dig into his palms. “It would be better if the Black Lion just chose you again.”

Shiro drops a heavy hand onto his shoulder. It isn’t reassuring. “She chose you. We’re going to make the most of it.”

Shiro, Keith notices, didn’t disagree.

* * *

Eventually, the Black Lion figures out he isn’t worth it and reconnects with Shiro, and everything is as it should be.

The team bids him goodbye with cordial words and embraces, but it’s hard to believe they’re sincere when they’d been yelling at him just a few minutes before he confessed his plans to leave for good, on a mission of undetermined length and undetermined danger.

Shiro doesn’t ask him to stay.

It’s only fair; Keith’s never asked him to, either.

* * *

A definition:

regret (verb)

  1. Feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over



* * *

Shiro died.

Shiro _died_.

 _Shiro died_.

* * *

Sleep escapes Keith.

Shiro is back again, but he’s still asleep more than he isn’t.

When Keith closes his eyes, he feels himself falling, Shiro’s hand in his. He hears Shiro’s voice in his head, complete with the ghostly echoes of the Astral Plane—

_I died, Keith._

When he does dream, he dreams of the fight—of Shiro tearing him down with his words and his blade, and how desperate Keith had been to save him, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

It’s been years now since they’ve left Earth, years since Keith vowed to himself that he’d pour on Shiro all the love he’d ever wanted for himself.

That love’s become something else, now, morphed through pain and time into something all-encompassing. Any mission, any cause—there’s nothing in the universe that’s more important to him than Shiro, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep him safe.

His mom told him it’s not unusual for Galra, to feel so strongly, but it terrifies him anyway.

He’s pretty sure Shiro remembers everything that happened. He can see it in his eyes. But he avoids talking about it, and Keith knows that if Shiro’s avoiding a conversation, it’s because he doesn’t want to hurt Keith.

This silence is a clear enough answer.

One night, it all becomes too much, everything he’s feeling and everything he’s gone through in the past ten years of his life. Keith buries his face in his pillow and cries for himself, for the first time that he can remember.

On the bunk on the other side of the room, Shiro sleeps on.

* * *

The next morning, Shiro is gone.

“He wanted to give us more time together,” Krolia says, even though they’ve already had three years—almost the same amount of time he’s known Shiro. “He’s moved to the Green Lion.”

That’s a clear enough answer, too.

* * *

A definition:

eschew (verb)

  1. Deliberately avoid using; abstain from



* * *

There’s some kind of irony in this, Keith thinks.

He’d lost his mom before he could even remember, long enough ago that he never even had hope of her returning.

But now she’s the one by his side.

The two who he thought would always be there for him, no matter what—

They’re the ones who aren’t coming back.

* * *

In the quiet of the night, when Keith no longer has any excuse to avoid his thoughts, he faces his grief head-on.

He never really understood what it meant to do that until he spent time in the quantum abyss talking to his mom about his dad. In the beginning, he could only get out sentences at a time before he’d get overwhelmed, but the more memories they saw and stories they shared, it got easier.

It still hurts to remember his dad’s smile, but Keith knows that will never go away.

At least now he can look back fondly on what was, while still mourning all that could have been.

It’s difficult to go through this with Shiro, who’s still alive, but whose distance now feels somehow worse than his death ever had.

Keith spends his time trying to figure out where he went wrong. If he even went wrong. They’ve been through a lot together, and not all of it good. He can’t blame Shiro for wanting space from his nightmares. For wanting space from him.

Focused meditation reminds him too much of Shiro to be useful, and Keith loses and loses himself in his thoughts and emotions. Sometimes it feels like it’s getting easier, and then other times, it seems like he’s made no progress at all. On nights like those, he curls himself against the wolf and cries quietly into his fur.

His mom always notices, and sits next to him in silent comfort.

It helps, a little bit. But never enough.

* * *

He recalls a lesson from his childhood.

If he stops caring, it’ll stop hurting.

He tries meditation again, and with a new goal. Thought by thought, he gathers his feelings for Shiro, and then he tucks them away, where they’ll be safe but muted.

He doesn’t care.

It still hurts.

* * *

He’s lying to himself.

He never stopped caring.

He never will.

* * *

A conversation:

“I used to think humans were… unintelligent,” his mom says. “Your father certainly didn’t help things.”

Keith raises his eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?”

“We generally judge the advancement of a species by their progression towards faster than light travel,” she says. “And Earth remains quite a ways away from that. But, in regards to your father, I was referring to the way that he came to the aid of an alien he didn’t know, going so far as to welcome me into his home.”

Keith laughs. “Dad was always a good judge of character.”

“He also tried to protect me,” she says, “until the moment I had to leave. He risked his life for me.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “That sounds like him.”

His mom smiles softly at him. “What I mean to say is that maybe what you’re feeling isn’t just a result of your Galra side. You love deeply, Keith. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”

Keith frowns. “I didn’t say there was.”

“Then why are you trying to bury it?”

Keith doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do.”

“You can accept it,” she says, like it’s simple.

“There’s nothing to accept,” he says, more sharply than he intends. He clenches his fists. “He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I’m not talking about his feelings,” she says. “I’m talking about yours.”

Oh.

_Oh._

* * *

Keith loves Shiro.

At this point, it feels like an inescapable fact of the universe. And maybe it is. Keith’s love for him is everlasting. He thinks it, and he knows it’s true.

Shiro loves him, too. It was probably never the same thing Keith feels; probably not this burning, all-encompassing need to go to the edge of the universe and back for him. But it’s there.

Shiro loves him. Keith thinks that, and he knows it’s true, too. He doesn’t know why Shiro left, or why he’s being distant now, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not his place to untangle Shiro’s feelings.

He’s untangling his own.

Keith loves Shiro.

He never stopped loving him.

He never will.

* * *

At twenty-one, Keith learns what it means to love unconditionally.

It’s the most freeing lesson he’s ever learned.

* * *

Keith always thought he’d die for Shiro.

After all, he definitely has the track record for it.

It’s somehow fitting that he’s going to be dying for Earth instead, for people that have never known him or cared about him, but whose shared humanity drive him to protect them all the same.

Like father, like son.

There’s a moment before it happens—a long, endless inhale.

In that moment, everything rises to the surface again, everything he wishes he could’ve said.

The IGF-Atlas is stationary on the ground. He knows Shiro’s watching. He doesn’t know what’s running through his mind.

He sees the first glimmer of light from the explosion, and his thoughts rush out on the exhale.

_I’m sorry, Shiro. I’m sorry I’m not going to be there for you anymore. I’m sorry I’m the one who didn’t say goodbye this time. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m—_

* * *

All is bright.

Then, all is dark.

* * *

Keith wakes in the hospital with a terrible migraine and his mom and Kolivan watching him.

She strokes his hair. “Rest, little one.”

He does.

* * *

It’s a while before he can stay conscious for more than five minutes. He apparently has had it the worst out of all the Paladins, judging by the way they’re all able to come visit him.

The rest of the Blades come by, too. Then the nurses catch them having a planning meeting in Keith’s hospital room and kicks them all out.

The MFEs visit. James brings flowers, probably because he’s heard that’s what you’re supposed to do for people in the hospital for near-death experiences. Keith’s too tired to give him shit about it.

Shiro doesn’t visit.

Keith can’t decide if he expected that or not.

* * *

A conversation:

“So, uh, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but is something going on with you and Shiro?”

Hunk, Keith notes, has a habit of plying him with food before broaching touchy topics. Keith’s not complaining about it, especially after weeks of Garrison hospital food.

“What makes you say that?” Keith says as he digs into the homemade lunch.

“Well, I ran into him on the way here and I asked if he wanted to come with,” Hunk says. “The look on his face, man. And then he said he needed to, like, recharge his arm? I wasn’t gonna question that, but it was for sure questionable. So, I gotta be honest, it kinda sounds to me like he’s avoiding you.”

“Congratulations,” Keith says. “You’ve found out the secret.”

“Yikes,” Hunk says. “Okay, so the break-up was not mutual. Got it.”

“There was no break-up,” Keith says. “Nothing is broken.”

“I mean, I wanna believe you, but your voice is kinda upset, dude,” Hunk says. “Also, I think you might have stabbed a hole there.”

Keith peels his fork out of the bottom of the paper container.

“Shiro needs time to figure stuff out,” Keith says. “It’s fine. I’m not mad at him or anything.”

“Aw, man.” Hunk puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Keith. Look, you guys were like the best buds I’ve ever known. I’m sure he’ll come around soon.”

“Yeah,” Keith says.

Soon.

* * *

_Soon_ is the most meaningless word he’s ever heard.

* * *

“What if I went with you?” Keith says.

He’s going to be released from the hospital in a few days, and the Blades are making plans to begin the search for a new base. His mom offered to stay behind with Keith, but he knows Kolivan needs her more.

“You’re always welcome, if it’s what you really want,” she says. “Somehow, I don’t get the sense that it is.”

Three years alone with her and their memories have made his mom way too perceptive.

She sits down on the edge of his bed. “What would it accomplish, coming with us?”

Keith looks down at his hands. “I’d give Shiro more space, at least. It’s what he wants.”

“And what do you want?”

Too much.

“I just want us to be okay again,” he says. That’s the bare minimum. More than that would be amazing, but he doesn’t need it, not the same way he needs to be able to watch a sunset and count the stars with Shiro again. His vision blurs. “What if we’re never going to be okay again?”

His mom holds him in her arms.

She doesn’t make him any promises she can’t keep.

* * *

“I can stay,” his mom says again after she helps him move into the apartment. “They’re more than capable of carrying this out without me.”

Keith snorts. “But who else will keep Kolivan in check? I’ll be fine.”

His mom looks unhappy about it, but when the Blades pack up and leave, she departs with them.

Two hours after she leaves, there’s a knock on the door to his apartment, and he hobbles over to it, wondering if she’d given in and come back after all.

It’s Shiro.

Keith slams the door in his face just out of shock, and when he regains his senses he opens it again to find Shiro with his hand hovering awkwardly in front of the door like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to knock again or not.

“Sorry,” Keith says.

“No, I deserved that.” Shiro looks over his shoulder, inside the apartment. “Can I come in?”

“I'm not going to be a great host,” Keith says, but he opens the door wider to let Shiro through.

Keith makes himself comfortable on the couch because he still can't stand for that long without feeling dizzy. The wolf bounds up onto the cushions, taking up the rest of the space.

Shiro hesitates, then sits down on the armchair.

“Shiro, I—”

“Keith, I—”

Shiro smiles wryly.

“Me first,” Keith says, fisting his hand in the wolf’s fur. “I just wanted to tell you that whatever you've been thinking about, or working through, that's okay. I'm still going to be here for you, no matter what. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that earlier.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, clearly not expecting that. “I—thank you, Keith. That means a lot to me.”

Keith smiles. “Yeah, of course. So just... take your time, all right? Whatever you want to tell me can wait until you’re ready.”

Shiro smiles back, but it’s without humor. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to be ready.”

“Sometimes,” Keith says, “you just have to know when to jump.”

* * *

A definition:

trust (verb)

  1. Believe in the reliability, truth or ability of
  2. Allow someone to have, use or look after (someone or something with importance or value) with confidence



* * *

Keith thinks he’s accidentally talked Shiro out of whatever it was that he came over to say, but it’s fine. He was telling the truth.

Whatever Shiro’s going through, it’s okay. Keith will support him when he’s ready to be supported.

For now, Shiro’s sitting across from him again. Shiro’s talking to him again. Not about everything, still, but about some things.

And that’s enough for now.

It’s enough forever.

* * *

Shiro shows up the next day with arms full of groceries and spends the whole day making a week’s worth of meals since Keith’s still mostly horizontal.

While he's there, he goes on about all the shit the Garrison’s been bothering him about since they’ve come back to Earth.

Keith falls asleep to the sound of his voice.

* * *

Shiro shows up the day after that with nothing but himself.

He helps Keith warm up food, and then washes dishes while Keith naps.

At night, Shiro helps him to bed and then kneels by the mattress and holds his hand.

“You almost died,” he says.

Keith looks at him and shrugs. “Not the first time. Probably won’t be the last.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, pained.

Keith closes his eyes. He always hated it when Shiro talked like that. “Sorry.”

“I went to be with you,” Shiro says. He’s looking at their hands. “But only when you weren’t awake. I’m a coward.”

Keith’s heart pounds. “You’re not.”

“Everything you've been through is my fault.”

“Shiro,” Keith says sharply. “It’s not.”

Shiro drops his head and whispers, “I don’t know how to say everything I need to say.”

Keith squeezes his hand tightly. “Take your time. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

He knew Shiro was working through something. To know that it was this…

“Keith—oh, _Keith_ , please don’t cry. Here.”

Shiro pushes a tissue box at him, and Keith yanks out a whole stack of them. His tears are always coming at the worst of times. He’s not sad right now, damn it. He’s fine.

“I am so sorry,” Shiro whispers.

“It's not your fault,” Keith says. “I’m just—”

He blows his nose instead of finishing the sentence.

“You can keep talking,” Keith says as he wipes off some snot.

“I love you,” Shiro says, something desperate in his voice. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I do.”

* * *

Keith falls asleep first.

He wakes to find Shiro sleeping on the floor.

* * *

Shiro’s quiet as they make breakfast, though he keeps stealing glances at Keith.

Keith, for his part, tries to act like everything’s normal, which works up until the point where Shiro heaves a sigh that feels like it contains the weight of the universe.

Keith blinks up at him, and Shiro slowly cups his jaw, resting his thumb against the scar on Keith’s cheek.

He shivers. When was the last time Shiro touched him?

But Shiro must take it to mean something else. His fingers drop away. “I don't deserve even half of what you give me.”

“I’m the one who gets to decide that,” Keith says. “And I say you do.”

* * *

Keith starts running, once he’s feeling up for it.

He’s been sedentary for weeks now, and the lack of physical activity is making him antsy, making it too easy for him to get lost in his thoughts. He’s not pushing himself, just letting the fresh air and his racing heartbeat kick his brain out of its spiral.

And then, one day, Shiro joins him.

Keith wouldn’t call himself competitive, but he is around Shiro. He doesn’t feel like he has to prove himself, exactly, but he definitely needs to prove something, and he’s not going to lag behind.

Shiro isn’t either.

They race each other across the campus, hearts on fire.

He wins.

He’s exhausted when they return to his apartment, and he collapses on the couch without even showering first.

Shiro takes a quick shower, and then he’s puttering around the kitchen again, making breakfast. He brings Keith a bowl of fruit and a refilled bottle of water.

“Thank you,” Keith says, reaching up to take the bottle.

Their fingers touch.

Shiro smiles, small and quiet. “Any time.”

* * *

A routine:

6:30am - Wake up

6:45am - Run with Shiro

8:00am - Breakfast

9:00am - Work

* * *

“So, things seem to be going better with you and Shiro,” Hunk says.

Keith hasn’t been bribed with food this time, which means he wasn’t expecting this emotional attack. He looks away. “I told you, everything was fine to begin with.”

“Right, yeah, I remember,” Hunk says, and pats his shoulder. “Still happy for you, though.”

Keith smiles. “Thank you,” he says, and means it.

* * *

It’s nice to have Hunk care, actually, because he doesn’t really have any reason to, not like his mom.

He just wants Keith to be happy.

Somehow, that reminds him of Shiro.

* * *

One day, while Keith is sitting in the apartment alone because there isn’t much else for him to be doing at the Garrison when the Paladins aren’t needed for a training exercise, he decides to start meditating again.

Some part of it feels lonely, without Shiro there beside him as he used to be.

Like all thoughts that drift into his mind when he meditates, he lets that one go.

Day by day, he digs deeper into himself, finding the parts of him that are wholly him, and the parts that are inextricably linked to Shiro.

Shiro’s shaped him in so many ways, but Keith’s the one who took the blueprints and ran with them. Shiro’s impact will always be with him, but it doesn’t define him.

All of him is wholly him.

The Blade didn’t activate until the moment he realized he didn’t need it to.

The clarity that Shiro isn’t as important to his identity as he once was activates something in him, too.

_I know who I am._

Keith cries after that, feeling like something is finally starting to knit back together.

* * *

“I don’t know if I want to stay on Earth,” he tells Shiro as they sit together, sweaty after their morning run. “After everything’s over, I mean.”

Shiro’s gaze is heavy. “Where would you want to go?”

“Not sure,” Keith says, staring at his feet. “Just not here.”

The irony doesn’t escape him. The human and the star child. A match that was never made to be.

“Well,” Shiro says, and Keith looks at him. His eyes glisten with something tender. “Be sure to save me a seat.”

* * *

Things don’t fix themselves that easily.

Later on, Keith will realize that there’s a reason neither of them have sparred together since returning to Earth, and Shiro, too should have known that it isn’t something they should be jumping back into headfirst. But they’re bad at talking about their feelings and even worse at talking about their traumas, and so it happens.

It begins with Shiro trapping him in a chokehold, and ends with Keith curled in a ball on the ground, desperate for air, for clarity, for some kind of grip on reality.

Shiro is upon him within seconds, hands raised like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I’m sorry, Keith, I’m so so sorry.”

* * *

Keith meditates past the feeling like shit for a couple days, and then he’s in Shiro’s office, demanding they go again.

Shiro grimaces. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ve figured my shit out,” Keith says. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s been two days, Keith.”

“How long did it take for me to figure out how to crush your record on the Hyperion sim, again?”

“That isn’t even close to being the same thing,” Shiro says, and his voice is weary but in the way it gets when he’s getting worn down. “Keith, you know I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you never would,” Keith says. “That one was on me. Please, Shiro. Trust me.”

Shiro softens impossibly at that. “You know I do.”

* * *

Things go better that time, and the next, and the next, and sparring joins running as a regular joint physical activity.

Keith goes to get groceries one day and brings Shiro a bottle of water with aloe as a treat next time they spar, and watches his eyes light up.

They sit together in the park and watch the sun go down, Shiro drinking his aloe water and Keith sitting with his elbows between his knees.

“I’ve been a bad friend to you,” Shiro says as the sun goes down. “But I don’t know how to be a better one.”

Keith scoots closer, until their sides are touching, and Shiro slips an arm behind his back.

“I don’t need you to be anything,” Keith says, “other than yourself.”

Shiro’s fingers squeeze his side. “What if that isn’t enough?”

“Do you trust me?” Keith says.

“Of course.”

“And I trust you,” Keith says. “Transitive property. Trust yourself. You’re enough.”

Shiro barks a laugh. “Okay, that’s really not how that works.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Shiro,” Keith says gently. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“I see what you're up to,” Shiro says.

Keith hums. “Is it working?”

Shiro holds him tighter in answer.

* * *

A definition:

realization (noun)

  1. An act of becoming fully aware of something as a fact



* * *

Some of the Blades come back with coordinates for the new base to give to Keith, and instructions to stay on Earth as an extra squadron for the attack.

Keith doesn’t know what kind of stories they’re hearing, and he doesn’t know who to blame because he’s pretty sure Kolivan and his mom are too practical to be talking about him in a way that would make these fresh-faced Blades as starry-eyed as they are, but they hang onto his every word during drills and follow him around the campus like ducklings.

Keith eventually chases them off and returns to his apartment, tired as all hell.

Shiro looks at him with a strange expression after he finishes airing his woes over dinner.

Keith squints at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Shiro says. “Just—you’ve really grown, haven’t you?”

Yeah. He guesses he has.

* * *

There are fresh flowers in his apartment.

Keith stares at them like they’re a trap, because, to be honest, they kind of feel like one. Why the hell would there be flowers in his apartment? The only ones with access are him and Shiro, and why would Shiro give him flowers?

He picks out the card with careful, gloved fingers.

_I’m proud of you. —Shiro_

Why, indeed.

* * *

Once a seed is planted, given the right conditions, it will inevitably grow.

Keith’s has been buried in his chest for a long time, and the conditions have been fucking dreary. Not enough sunlight, not enough water, and the last few times it started to blossom, winter set in and withered it away.

He feels it growing again in between his lungs, and he still feels an instinct to crush it before it can be crushed, but it’s a delicate, beautiful thing, and he knows he could never do that. Whatever happens, he’s always going to keep a place for it in his heart.

When Keith finishes his day, Shiro’s always waiting for him, whether they were training together or not, and they go to the apartment together, chatting quietly about how the day went, how he feels, what they could improve the next time.

Keith thought he knew what love felt like, but something new blooms afresh with every word, every touch, every interaction.

Keith is twenty-two when he learns how it feels to _want_.

* * *

“I have a lot of regret,” Shiro says one evening, hidden behind the steam of miso. “A lot of things I don’t like, but I can’t change. I’m trying, but…”

Keith regards him carefully. Shiro’s words are carefully chosen, and he doesn’t want to push too hard, but this is also Shiro reaching out to him, saying he needs to be pushed.

Shiro’s at the edge of the cliff, hesitating.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Keith says.

Sometimes, you just have to know when to jump.

* * *

(Easier said than done.

More often than not, Shiro will sit on the couch, poring over results and reports and summaries, and Keith will send messages to his mom and be thankful that flying circles around Griffin is considered work nowadays.

Sometimes Shiro will start talking in quiet, halted words about what he’s been through, the past few years—his pain and fear and loneliness, all the wounds that haven’t healed. Every syllable is precious and sacred.

Keith puts his hand on Shiro’s thigh and listens.)

* * *

The first time Shiro cries, really cries in front of him, Keith cries too.

They hold each other and mourn all that they’ve lost.

Shiro comes to bed with him, because neither of them can stand to be alone.

When Keith wakes up, Shiro’s gone.

But the sheets are still warm beside him.

* * *

Despite the fact that it’s been proven in battle, the IGF-Atlas is still a largely untested, experimental ship, and the Garrison leadership and scientists decide to abscond with it and Shiro for a week to ensure the Atlas will be ready for the upcoming battle.

Voltron is not required; therefore, Keith, leader of Voltron, is not invited.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Shiro says at his doorstep early Monday morning, packed and ready to leave instead of ready for their morning run.

Keith barely resists the urge to hit him. “Don’t even joke like that.”

The teasing smile slips from Shiro’s face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Keith says.

Sometimes the smallest things are what feel the rawest.

Shiro takes his hand, runs his thumb over Keith’s knuckles. “I’ll see you on Friday, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Keith wants to squeeze his hand, draw him in closer, kiss him. He wants to so badly.

He doesn’t.

He gives Shiro a cowardly hug instead, burying his nose into the starchy fabric of his uniform jacket.

“Come home soon,” he says.

Shiro’s hand is heavy on the back of Keith’s neck. “I will.”

* * *

Most of Garrison leadership being away also means that the trainings have slowed to a more relaxed pace. In the morning, they run formations with the MFEs—that admittedly devolve into races and horseplay that Keith doesn’t have the heart to put a stop to—but otherwise the day is mostly theirs.

Keith runs, trains, spends a few hours a day with the Blades trainees, and awkwardly finds himself in front of Shiro’s office even though he’s not there. Keith turns around and wanders into the kitchen instead, where Hunk is cheerfully cooking enough food to feed an entire squadron.

“It’s so nice to not have to work with goo,” Hunk says. “Actual fresh ingredients, with actual fresh textures! Ah! The dream.”

“You made some pretty good stuff with that goo,” Keith remembers.

Hunk beams. “Aw, thanks man. So, how are you, what's going on? You’re looking kinda down.”

Keith frowns. “I am?”

“Yeah, you’ve got the, like, worried eyebrow wrinkles,” Hunk says, poking himself in the forehead to demonstrate. “I thought you and Shiro were all good?”

“Who said it’s about Shiro?” Keith says. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“You forget that I’ve seen you tired, dude,” Hunk says. “Like, a lot. Almost as many times as I’ve seen your worried-about-Shiro face. Just saying.”

Keith frowns harder, but it’s not like he has the evidence to refute it.

Hunk sets a steaming bowl of rice and curry in front of him. “Nothing like a good meal to let it all out.”

“There’s nothing to let out,” Keith says.

Hunk garnishes the bowl with cilantro.

* * *

A confession, after two bowls of curry rice and a drink that tasted suspiciously like sweetened nunvil:

“I’m in love with Shiro.” 

“I know.”

“Like, I want to kiss him kind of love.”

“Wait, so you mean the first time—you know what, never mind.”

“I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before.”

“I’m sure Shiro will feel honored.”

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too, bud.”

“I don’t want to kiss you, though.”

“You know what? I think I’m good with that.”

* * *

Keith keeps himself busy wherever he can—the maintenance deck, the control tower, the hangar, the skies. He doesn’t miss the fact that his eyes instinctively sweep the room, looking for someone who isn’t there, but he tries not to acknowledge it.

In the evenings, the hoverbikes catch his eye in the covered spaces of his apartment building, but he finds he can’t stomach the thought of going out there alone, again.

When the apartment gets too quiet, he meditates.

_I’m Keith. I’m whole. I know who I am._

He’s lonely now, but he isn’t alone.

The space in his ribcage exists still, but it no longer stings. It’s a dull ache, a healing wound.

* * *

He catches Allura watching him train with the Blades.

“What do you think?” he says, after, nodding to the group making their way back to their quarters.

“I think they have a wonderful teacher,” Allura says. “You’ve done well with them, Keith.”

“Oh,” he says.

She reaches out and squeezes his arm. “I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but I know for a fact that the Lions couldn’t have chosen better. I’m proud to be a part of your team.”

“Oh,” he says again.

Oh.

He stammers out some kind of gratitude before Allura waves him off, but it’s all so overwhelming. The first thing he wants to do is run home and tell Shiro, but it’s still a few days before he’ll be back.

Soon, he thinks. Soon.

* * *

“Don’t panic,” Iverson says when Keith picks up his communicator in the dead of night, which in and of itself feels like a reason to panic. “It’s Shirogane.”

Keith’s heart leaps into his throat. “What happened?”

He asked, but he’s not really listening to the answer. In between stumbling out of bed and finding his shoes and his keys, he hears something about mental strain and a crash.

The test site is three hours away, driving. He's sure Black wouldn't mind making that trip shorter.

“Keith,” Iverson says, and hearing his first name out of Iverson’s mouth is enough to catch his attention. “He's okay. Don't do anything rash.”

Keith is already halfway to the car. “If he's okay, then why are you calling me?”

Iverson hesitates. “He's going to be okay,” he amends. “He's not a hundred percent yet. And... I'm calling because he's asking for you.”

Keith doesn't make it to the car.

The Black Lion comes to him first.

* * *

He's sure he's something of a sight, bursting out of the Black Lion in pajamas and a whirlwind of worried frustration, but it's the latter that makes everyone give him a wide berth as he pushes his way into the makeshift hospital.

The test site is just like it sounds—a vast, empty space of desert for the Garrison to test more experimental craft away from where it could cause damage. The only buildings are temporary white tents that give Keith chills to step into.

Shiro isn't strapped down this time, at least, but he is unconscious. Sleeping, probably. There's a furrow to his brows that disappears when Keith puts fingers to his cheek.

Keith's heart throbs. _I’m here_.

“He's stable,” the nurse assures him. “Just resting.”

“He's not staying here,” Keith says.

It isn't a question.

_I’m here, Shiro. I’m here._

* * *

Shiro doesn't wake up as Keith carries him out of the hospital, and Keith tries not to think about how agonizingly familiar this all is.

At least he didn't have to set off charges this time.

Iverson’s waiting at the foot of the Black Lion. He looks like he's about to say something, and then he reconsiders and says, “Get him home safe.”

Keith just nods.

The bunks in the Lion are probably even less comfortable than the beds in the makeshift hospital, but it's not a long journey and it's better than the alternative.

Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand, cool and limp in his. “We’ll be home soon.”

Around them, Black roars.

* * *

Shiro wakes at midday.

Keith’s barely left the bedside, and if he did, he made sure the wolf was there. He isn’t sure how disoriented Shiro will be when he wakes up, but he doesn’t want him to do it alone.

He feels Shiro shift next to him, and then Shiro’s gaze is on him.

“Keith,” Shiro says, all soft and gentle, like he hasn’t just had his brain absolutely fried. His eyes flick around the room, and Keith watches him remember. The corner of his lip ticks up. “Saving me again, huh?”

Keith’s eyes are watering, and he can’t tell if he wants to hit him or kiss him.

He clenches his fists in the sheets instead.

_You can’t keep doing this to me._

He understands, now, what those words mean.

But it’s not his place to tell Shiro to do or not do anything. Shiro is free to live his own life however he wants, and if Shiro ever needs him, Keith will be there.

As many times as it takes.

He takes Shiro’s hand in his and squeezes tight. “It’s good to have you back.”

Shiro squeezes back. “Good to be back.”

* * *

Whereas time had always felt like it was flying past, now it seems to screech to a halt.

Shiro’s banned from the Atlas as they run a battery of tests on it, and they’ve taken the Altean prosthetic for testing, too. Shiro is also banned from doing any activity involving any sort of heavy thinking as the Garrison pores over the battery of tests they’d run on him after he collapsed. Keith’s been given leave to watch over him as they figure it all out.

“I’m not supposed to think?” Shiro says when Keith relays that information to him. “What can I even do, then?”

“Rest?” Keith suggests, weakly.

Properly resting isn’t really one of Shiro’s many skills; he’s much better at thinking and overthinking. Keith wouldn’t call him a workaholic, exactly; it’s just that he’s spent most of his life trying to do everything while he still could. Rest was something reserved for later.

It seems _later_ is now.

Keith shepherds Shiro to the couch and sits down next to him, on his left side. The space wolf flops down against their legs, locking them in.

Shiro gives Keith a disgruntled look, but he doesn’t say anything as Keith picks out a harmless-looking romcom.

It turns out to be kind of a mistake.

Shiro does like romcoms, though he doesn’t usually pick them as a group watching activity. Reason being that he starts crying. Quickly.

Keith scrambles for the tissue box.

By the second movie, his lap is full of Shiro and balled-up, snotty tissues.

It’s not that different from how things used to be between them, but now when he threads his fingers through Shiro’s hair, something hot roils low in his gut. His fingers against Shiro’s jaw are thrumming with a different intent.

They need to talk about this.

They don’t.

It’s not safe for Shiro to be alone right now, so when the day is over, they both squish into Keith’s full-size bed. Keith offered to take the couch, but Shiro wasn’t having it, and it’s not like Keith’s going to let Shiro sleep on the couch either—so here they are.

He’s sure that when they wake up, Keith sprawled all over Shiro’s broad chest, that they have to talk about it at some point, but they don’t.

Keith hides behind the excuse of Shiro’s healing.

No thinking or overthinking.

Right.

* * *

Shiro clears the next check-up, and is permitted to start using the Altean prosthetic again in small increments, starting with one hour.

He starts by spending it back in the kitchen, prepping ingredients.

When he gets to increase to two hours, he spends the extra time with Keith, winding and unwinding their fingers as they sit together and talk.

It means something, Keith thinks.

But they don’t talk about what.

* * *

Shiro’s freed from needing a watcher all day, which means Keith is back to his regularly-scheduled cycle of drills and training. Since Shiro’s not cleared for his own regular duties, he takes to becoming Keith’s new duckling, following him around from one building to another and not doing much else but watching.

At the end of the day, Keith drives them both out to the desert, where they sit at the edge of the cliff, watching the meteor shower.

“You’ve come so far,” Shiro says in a low voice.

“I could say the same about you,” Keith says, glancing at him. Shiro’s head is tilted up towards the sky, so Keith can’t completely read his expression.

It’s just as well. The moment feels vulnerable.

“I’d say we both have,” Shiro says.

High up in the atmosphere, a star falls.

* * *

Frustration is inevitable.

For someone as prodigious as Shiro, it’s expected.

Once he’s given the all-clear from the Garrison, he tries transforming Atlas again. He doesn’t pass out, but it doesn’t work, either.

Everyone assures him that it’s fine, it’s only to be expected, but Keith can see all of their words slipping right off Shiro in the set of his expression and the way his hand is fisted on the console.

Shiro lives to defy expectations.

Keith puts a hand on his shoulder, raised and tense. “Let’s go home.”

He feels Shiro breathe under his hand, and relax, though just barely.

Keith can’t give him much, but he can give him this.

* * *

Keith takes Shiro to visit his dad.

He tells him about how they met, everything Shiro did for him, how he owes so much of who he is today to Shiro.

Shiro flushes and splutters but doesn’t stop him, probably because he doesn’t know how to.

“Why did you do that?” Shiro says after they leave.

“I wanted him to know that I have someone good in my life,” Keith says, “and that I appreciate you.”

Keith wants Shiro to know that too.

* * *

Shiro gets Atlas to transform the following week, with no ill effects to himself, marking the completion of his recovery. He thanks everyone for their patience.

Keith gives him a look, which he ignores.

Life goes on.

* * *

There’s a knock on his door.

“You didn’t wait for me,” Shiro says when Keith opens it.

Keith lets him in. “I didn’t realize you were still coming.”

Now that Shiro’s fully recovered, there’s no need for him to be spending nights over at Keith’s place anymore, and Keith didn’t want to presume that anything had changed.

He says that, but he’s made enough dinner for two.

Shiro hesitates on the doorstep. “Is this still okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and guides him in.

* * *

They’ve run out of excuses.

But for that night and all the nights after, Shiro stays.

* * *

Command decides on a launch date from Earth. 

The team decides that they should have one last hurrah.

They go to a nearby bar and grill that’s a favorite among Garrison cadets to _get turnt_ , as Lance put it. Keith follows their lead, because he has no idea what that means.

It starts with dinner. He sits with Hunk on one side and Shiro on the other, and tries not to jump out of his skin when Shiro’s hand rests warm on the top of his thigh.

Shiro acts like it’s nothing, but Keith knows him well enough to know that’s a lie. Every touch means something to him.

Around them, everyone’s arguing about what the best items on the menu are, and basically deciding on two of everything. Keith has no strong opinions but also he just can’t think straight with Shiro touching him so casually in public. Across from them, Pidge is declaring that they’re all old enough in life experience for alcohol.

Once the orders are placed, Lance says, “I think it’s time for a motivational speech!” and looks right over at them.

He means Shiro, right? Keith looks up to find Shiro looking back at him. He’s suddenly aware of how close their faces are, and how easy it would be to lean in and kiss him right now.

Allura coughs and gets everyone’s attention instead.

Keith flushes, hard.

Shiro’s hand on his thigh squeezes reassuringly.

Keith is, somehow, not reassured.

* * *

After dinner is done, the team migrates fully to the bar where they’re doing—

“Shots, shots, shots shots shots, shots shots, shots shots shots, shots shots, shots shots shots shots—”

“Everybody!” Pidge crows after Lance is done chanting.

Keith doesn’t understand the ritual, but also he’s never really done shots before. Still, there’s a first time for everything, and Keith is feeling antsy under Shiro’s gaze, so he picks up the glass from the bartop and throws it back. The alcohol burns as it goes down, and he coughs and splutters.

“Whoa there.” Shiro takes the glass from him, and puts a warm hand on his back. “Is this your first time?”

“What does it look like?” Keith says. His voice is raspy.

Shiro smiles a little. “Let’s start slower, okay?”

If it were anyone else, Keith would bristle at the coddling.

With Shiro, he just melts.

* * *

He and Shiro leave together.

Keith doesn’t know if the team’s figured out the situation between them or not, but the rest of them act like everything’s normal—though Keith catches Lance and Pidge in a vicious elbowing contest as they leave.

The night air is refreshing, but Keith still feels a little buzzed, and they haven’t gone twenty feet before he trips over a crack in the sidewalk. Shiro laughs a bit as he steadies him with arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Always thought Galra wouldn’t be able to get drunk from this stuff,” Shiro says.

Keith huffs. “Dunno. Never tried.”

“You’ve really never done shots?”

“Just because you liked to party—” Keith cuts himself off when he turns and sees Shiro’s face. His smile is soft, and his eyes are shining with mirth.

Oh, Keith thinks, wanting very much to kiss him.

Shiro saves him from tripping and faceplanting again. “Careful, Keith.”

It’s far too late for that.

* * *

They get back to Keith’s apartment, and into their bedroom.

There’s a tension in the air between them, a silent energy that Keith doesn’t know what to do with.

He clears his throat. “Thanks,” he says, awkward. “For, you know. Saving me from the sidewalk.”

“Has to be my turn to save you sometimes,” Shiro says, teasing.

“Right,” Keith says. “Shiro, I—”

Shiro’s right next to him. They haven’t turned on the lights, but his curtains are open, and his bedroom is washed in moonlight. It reflects off Shiro’s eyes, the endless depths of them, and Keith is lost.

“Please,” Keith whispers.

In the dim light, he can see the moment Shiro makes up his mind to take the small opening Keith gave him. He hesitates, then reaches his hand out to touch Keith’s waist. It curls around, settles on the small of his back.

Keith’s pulse is thunderous.

“Keith,” Shiro says softly.

“Shiro.”

They’re at the edge of the cliff now. He can feel it—his own hesitation, his own excuses bubbling to the surface. It’s been a long day. They’ve had a lot to drink. They need to sleep.

He could step away from Shiro’s touch, laugh it off, go to bed like usual.

He doesn’t.

Instead he puts his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, then up to his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones.

Sometimes, you just have to know when to jump.

* * *

When they kiss, Shiro gasps into his mouth as though he’s been waiting a lifetime.

* * *

The sparks of heat that have been simmering in Keith’s belly roar to life, but Shiro seems content to hold him there rather than progressing forward, lips moving against his in a steady cadence.

He’s falling—but Shiro will catch him, no matter what.

They stumble further into the room, until Shiro’s stopped by the bed. Shiro’s lips and breath leave a hot trail along the skin of Keith’s neck as Keith fights with the buttons of Shiro’s jacket while trying to catch his breath. Shiro is hard everywhere—from his shoulders to his chest to the erection pressing against Keith’s hip.

Keith wants to feel it all.

“Off,” Keith says, pushing at the jacket that’s stuck on Shiro’s elbow.

Shiro laughs against his cheek, and Keith’s heart warms. “Of course.”

Shiro’s jacket falls to the ground, as does Keith’s, and then Keith seals their mouths together again and pushes Shiro down onto the bed, crawling immediately into his lap.

“Hold on a sec,” Shiro breathes, hand pushing gently against Keith’s hip. “We don’t have to rush.”

Keith doesn’t feel like he knows how to do anything else, but he follows Shiro’s guidance and sits back, flushed, uncertain. Shiro kisses him softly, then guides his hands to the hem of his undershirt.

Keith undresses him carefully, reverently, knowing that this is an act of trust that Shiro hasn’t shared with anyone else. He presses open-mouthed kisses to Shiro’s throat and the scars of his past. Beneath his lips, Shiro exhales, a shaky, private sound.

Shiro lays back on the bed, and pulls Keith on top of him. He slips his hands under Keith’s shirt, skimming across his sides, before slowly pulling his shirt over his head. Keith swallows, and shivers as his skin is laid bare.

Shiro’s eyes trail down the length of his body, following the movement of his fingers from Keith’s collarbones down to his navel, then back up to Keith’s face. His eyes bore into Keith’s as Shiro’s fingers trace the bow of his lips.

Keith swallows again.

“Is this okay?” Shiro says, hushed.

“Yes.”

The staccato of Keith’s heart is unrelenting, and Shiro pauses to catch his mouth in more of those dizzying kisses.

* * *

Once naked, they lie together on his bed, the moon casting a silvery glow on them through the open window.

So familiar, but so, so different.

“What do you want?” Shiro murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles into Keith’s hips.

Keith lowers himself onto Shiro in answer, repositioning himself and searching for the right angle— _there_ —

The sigh that Shiro voices matches his own, and they rock together. If this is all their night is, Keith won’t complain. He’s falling, still falling—falling even faster when Shiro’s lips latch onto his neck and leave their mark.

Keith tugs him up for another kiss, one hand on the back of Shiro’s head and one hand spread across his chest, just to feel his skin.

He didn’t know it would feel like this.

Shiro’s tongue laps at his, and then he’s pulling back, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Keith’s face as his fingers card through his hair and their bodies rock slowly together, like coming is the last thing on their minds.

* * *

Keith hasn’t done this before—has never really wanted to do this before—which means everything about sex is uncharted territory, and so when he wraps his hand around Shiro’s cock, and Shiro stifles a groan into his throat, Keith isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or not.

Shiro’s hand covers his. “Hey,” he says softly. “We don’t have to do this.”

Keith wets his lips. “I want to.”

Shiro studies his face. “Okay.” He moves his hand away, and up to Keith’s face, drawing him down for another slow, soft kiss that makes Keith’s heart swell. “Hey. I love you.”

Keith leans down and kisses him again. “Tell me what you like.”

* * *

Shiro does not tell him what he likes.

Shiro rolls them over, holds him down as he scatters kisses along Keith’s chest, stomach, thighs.

He presses a kiss right to the tip of Keith’s cock, and Keith squirms at the barely-there touch and at the sight of Shiro between his legs, making him feel self-conscious. Then Shiro opens his mouth and takes him in, and the pleasure that spikes through Keith makes him forget all about his uncertainty.

Shiro hums, an amused, tingly thing that makes a noise rise in the back of Keith’s throat in response.

Keith’s hands clench in the bedsheets, and he loses himself for a moment in the hot and wet and slick of Shiro’s mouth. It’s indescribable, but he needs more.

He needs Shiro.

“Come here,” Keith says, reaching for him, wanting to be held and kissed, and Shiro’s smile is fond as he follows.

* * *

Keith comes gasping with Shiro’s fingers laced in his, and their hands wrapped around both their cocks. Shiro drops his head to Keith’s shoulder, biting the side of his neck as he topples over the edge after.

Then they kiss and kiss and kiss.

* * *

Keith falls asleep to the low hum of Shiro’s breathing, and the steady _thump thump_ of his heart.

* * *

A definition:

now (adverb)

  1. At the present time or moment



* * *

Launch date arrives. It’s a solemn affair as much as it is an exciting one.

They’re throwing themselves straight into danger, without any idea of how long they’ll be gone or when they’ll be back.

If they’ll be back.

But Keith isn’t afraid.

Shiro’s hand is a comforting weight on his shoulder. And, just beyond, by Atlas’s boarding ramp, the Blades and the rest of the Paladins are waiting.

Whatever they’ll face out there, they’ll all face it together.

 _Now,_ Keith thinks, heart full.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [allie](https://ao3.org/users/artenon) and [sharki](https://ao3.org/users/leftishark_) for beta reading!
> 
> and thank you so much for reading! ♥  
> i love, appreciate, and reply to all comments, even if it takes me a little while to get to them :)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ailurea)!


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